


Don't Tug on Superman's Cape

by flowerfan



Category: Glee
Genre: Blam, M/M, Spoilers, blam friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-19
Updated: 2014-09-19
Packaged: 2018-02-18 00:30:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2328668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowerfan/pseuds/flowerfan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by just the very first Season 6 spoilers; Sam and Blaine get their country on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Tug on Superman's Cape

Sam comes home after an evening shift at the gym to find Blaine spread out on the futon couch, the television on mute, a magazine lying open and abandoned on the coffee table next to him. Blaine blinks his eyes open when Sam shoves his feet up so he can sit down. 

“Hey, you’re home.”

“Yeah, and you’re asleep at nine o’clock.” Sam grins as Blaine looks dazedly at his watch. 

“Ugh. I had a headache, was trying to sleep it off.”

“Did it work?”

Blaine blinks again and pushes himself up until he’s sitting next to Sam. “Sort of?”

Sam goes into the tiny kitchen and returns with a bottle of ibuprofen and a glass of water. Blaine doesn’t always remember to take medicine, even when he’s hurting, and by Blaine’s abashed smile he knows this was one of those times.

“Thanks, Sam.”

“You’re not making it any better by falling asleep on this thing,” Sam says, waving a hand at the futon. It has definitely seen better days, and the cushion has about as much spring in it as a placemat.

“No, Sam, it’s cool, really. I don’t mind it.” They have been arguing for the past week about where Blaine should sleep. Sam is glad to have Blaine here, in his tiny over-the-garage apartment in Lima. It’s good to have his friend nearby, and he thinks Blaine needs him now, too. But there is no denying that the place is small. And both of them remember how tempers had frayed when Sam slept on the couch in the Bushwick loft the year before – although to be fair, without Kurt and Rachel in the mix, Sam isn’t really worried about the same type of drama. Besides, even when he’s out of sorts, Blaine is the best kind of roommate, always picking up after himself (and Sam, but not in an obnoxious kind of way), staying up late binge watching tv with him, and buying Sam’s favorite ice cream along with more useful types of groceries. He doesn’t even mind sharing all his fancy shampoos and things with Sam. Blaine can sleep on his couch forever, as far as Sam is concerned.

Sam gives Blaine a smile and a shrug. He’s not going to argue with Blaine about this again. Eventually the guy will get tired of the torture-trap futon and take him up on his offer to sleep in his queen size bed with him. It’s not as if Sam has anyone else to share it with at the moment, or they haven’t had sleepovers before. While it might get in the way of Blaine’s late night moping sessions, Sam thinks that might be a good thing.

Blaine smiles back and picks up his magazine. Sam figures video games are out of the question given Blaine’s headache situation – maybe later, once the painkillers kick in. He wanders into his bedroom, shucks off his sneakers, and grabs his guitar.

He’s sitting crosslegged on the bed, music book propped up on the comforter and back against the headboard, when Blaine comes in.

“Sorry, am I being too loud?” 

“No, it sounds good. I like it.” Blaine stretches out on the bed, his head propped up on his hand, looking at Sam. “What are you working on?” Blaine pulls some sheet music towards him where it had gotten stuck under the edge of the blanket and looks it over.

“My mom sent me some of her old music, a bunch of stuff she used to play.”

“Country, huh?” Blaine grins at Sam, a teasing look on his face.

“Come on, this stuff is great.” Sam fights off a blush. It’s not as if Blaine hasn’t heard him play country music before, although this isn’t exactly Carrie Underwood.

“Nah, you’re right. And you make an excellent cowboy.” Blaine winks at Sam, and then falls over on to his back, his arms crossed behind his head. “Go on. Play me some country music.”

Sam laughs, more than willing to take Blaine’s good mood at face value, and arranges the songbook against so he can see it. “Fine. Feel free to sing along, now.”

He strums a few chords and then starts singing _Don’t Mess Around with Jim._ True to form, Blaine joins in on the chorus.

_You don't tug on Superman's cape_  
 _You don't spit into the wind_  
 _You don't pull the mask off that old Lone Ranger_  
 _And you don't mess around with Jim._

Before they finish the song, Blaine is sitting up, tapping out a drum beat on his knees until the end. “Okay, ten points for finding a country song that references superheros!” he cheers, raising his hand to give Sam a heartfelt high five. “What else you got?” 

Sam pages through the yellowed Jim Croce songbook, looking for pieces he recognizes. By the time he’s halfway through with “Bad, Bad, Leroy Brown” Blaine has found a harmonica, and is playing along, stopping every so often to catch his breath and crack up at the crazy voice Sam is using. Sam had lost track along the way of just who he was trying to imitate, but as long as it was amusing Blaine, he figures it doesn’t matter. 

“Oh my god, Sam, I can’t remember the last time I laughed so hard,” Blaine pants, throwing himself back down on the bed. 

“What can I say, I’m just that good,” Sam jokes.  
“Any better and you’ll give me an aneurism,” Blaine replies, flopping his arms out to his sides and playfully shoving Sam’s arm until Sam shoves him back. 

“Fine, I’ll find something calmer, relax.” 

Blaine turns on his side and tucks an arm under his head, giving Sam his best puppy eyes. “I’m waiting.” 

“Brat.” Sam starts off with one song, then gets stuck in a weird chord progression, and quickly turns the page to the next one. “Sorry.” 

“Mmm, don’t care, it sounds nice.” Blaine’s got his eyes closed and doesn’t seem to mind Sam’s mistakes. Sam finds a song he remembers his mom singing, something soothing, and it doesn’t look too hard. The melody is sweet, and Sam likes the way the words sound in his throat as he sings them. 

_Lazy days in mid July_  
 _Country Sunday mornin'_  
 _Dusty haze on summer highways_  
 _Sweet magnolia callin'_

___But now and then I find myself_  
 _Thinkin' of the days_  
 _When we were walkin' in the Alabama Rain._

Sam gets caught up in the feeling of the song, thinking about a date he had with Mercedes, how she made him feel as warm as a summer’s day, like everything would work out as long as they were together. Walking through the city at night with his arm over her shoulder, feeling like the dirt and the grime didn’t matter, not compared to the light in her eyes. 

_We were only kids but then_  
 _I never heard it said_  
 _That kids can't fall in love and feel the same_  
 _I can still remember the first time I told you I loved you_  
 _On a dusty mid July_  
 _Country summer's evenin'_  
 _A weepin' willow sang its lullabies_  
 _And shared its secrets_  
 _But now and then I find myself_  
 _Thinkin' of the days_  
 _That we were walkin' in the Alabama Rain._  


Sam strums the last chords and comes out of his reverie, glancing over to see Blaine wiping his face, tears sliding down his cheek and on to the pillowcase.  


“Shit, man, I’m sorry.” Sam feels like an idiot. “I didn’t mean-“  


“No, Sam, it’s okay,” Blaine sniffs, looking at Sam with wet eyes. He grimaces and sits up, giving Sam a weary look. “It’s not the first time a sad song’s made me cry, and it won’t be the last.”  


“Yeah, but…” Sam trails off, not knowing what to say to make it better.  


“It’s really okay.” Blaine twists around to find a tissue, and wipes his face more effectively, then turns back to Sam. “It kind of feels good, in a way, you know?”  


Sam just shrugs. He shouldn’t have made his friend cry, that doesn’t feel good at all.  


“I mean, sure, the song made me sad, but it’s also beautiful. Melancholy. I can cry a little bit, and get past it, and move on. See?” Blaine makes a silly face, stretching his mouth out wide and raising his eyebrows, and Sam laughs, despite himself.  


“How are you so good with this?” Sam asks, not even sure if he means how Blaine is handling the breakup, or how he’s handling Sam.  


“Practice?” Blaine jokes with a wry smile, pulling his feet up under him and giving Sam his full on, earnest attention. “No, seriously, Sam, I’m okay. This thing with Kurt… we’ve been going back and forth for a long time. A lot of straight out fights, a lot of subtle jabs, a lot of hurtful monologuing and passive aggressive text messaging on both sides.” A pained look flashes over Blaine’s face, as if he’s remembering something particularly cruel. “It’s a relief, in a way, to have it be over.”  


Blaine doesn’t look like he particularly believes this last bit, but Sam isn’t going to challenge him. “I’m still sorry, dude. It just sucks.”  


Blaine nods, apparently out of eloquent explanations. “Yeah, it does.”  


Sam sets his guitar aside and pulls Blaine into a tight hug, relieved when Blaine hugs him back, tucking his face against his neck with a sigh. A lot has changed since the first big Klaine breakup – Blaine is right, he has a lot more perspective now. The breakup doesn’t seem to be sending him into a spiraling depression, and he hasn’t stopped gelling on weekends, at least not because he’s in despair. On the other hand, some things have remained the same. Sam can still make Blaine smile, and even laugh. And fortunately, Sam thinks, stroking a hand up and down Blaine’s back, hugs still seem to work pretty well too.  


**Author's Note:**

> All the songs mentioned are by Jim Croce; the last one is "Alabama Rain." It's really very pretty, and, as mentioned, a little sad.


End file.
